I realized something this morning.
While I was getting dressed.
In the dark.
And grumbling every moment of the way.
I don’t have to like getting up at 5 AM on a crazy busy day to make sure I get a workout in. I don’t have to like it at all. It’s ok at that I’m grumbling – as long as it isn’t loud enough to wake up everyone else.
I just have to do it.
I was the queen of “I don’t care if you don’t want to – just do it” when my kids were little. It solved a boatload of drama and hours of fruitless negotiations with children who were all smarter than me. I was implacable, and they knew arguing with me was hopeless once that line was thrown down in an argument.
“I don’t care if you don’t like brushing your teeth. Do you like sitting in a dentist’s chair with a drill in your mouth hoping against hope that he knows what he’s doing? Go brush your teeth.” (Ok, so maybe I was a little morbid as well, hearing how it sounds now.)
“I don’t care if you don’t like taking a shower. No one like sitting next to someone who hasn’t showered and just finished PE. Go take a shower.”
So how did I end up a grown adult with the idea that if I didn’t like getting up early to work out, well, then, dear sweetheart, I shouldn’t have to?
The lady in my head has turned on me, I think. Or joined the ranks. This morning she didn’t whine or complain when I rolled out of bed at 4:45 AM. She just seemed sad and whispered, “Coffee.”
I’m probably going to be very sorry for this epiphany in a few minutes when my trainer smiles and says, “Want to do stairs today?”
I’ll tell her the truth. No, I don’t. I want to be in bed reading Zite on my iPad. But then I’ll do it anyway. After all, I have an epiphany to keep up.